


Red and Pink

by TheSkeleton



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Ballet AU, F/F, Human AU, mentions of Pearl/Rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSkeleton/pseuds/TheSkeleton
Summary: Pearl can’t sit still, she can’t ever rest or take a break.  No matter how many times she feels her muscles ache and feel as if she’s about to pass out, she can’t stop.  Stopping means not dancing, it means not practicing and making sure everything is precise.  It means not making sure her form is perfect, not knowing every step needed for the song.It means thinking of things she can’t control, no matter how hard she tries.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this took me ages to write and I was very back and forth on it. Not going to lie, a sequel might come out of this (a second chapter to this more likely). But also don't be...shocked if that doesn't happen. Sorry, my dudes.

Pearl can’t sit still, she can’t ever rest or take a break. No matter how many times she feels her muscles ache and feel as if she’s about to pass out, she can’t stop. Stopping means not dancing, it means not practicing and making sure everything is precise. It means not making sure her form is perfect, not knowing every step needed for the song.

It means thinking of things she can’t control, no matter how hard she tries.

Her work is demanding, and she would have it no other way. She likes being busy, having her hands occupied and focusing on productive things instead of missing the one Saturday where they drank together and talked until late into the night. Or the Sunday when they drove out to the lakes with their friends. Or the Monday when all they did was lay in bed together.

There’s a whole week that goes into a month and then a year and then a decade Pearl could spend all day remembering.

But she can’t. No matter how many times she wants to, she can’t. Pearl can’t do that to her, even if she’s gone.

Pearl likes her work, she likes that it’s demanding. Being a ballet dancer keeps her in shape and it makes it easy for her to focus on that, instead of Rose. It gives her the attention of people who come out to New York to see her dance, and it gives her the adrenaline she needs to keep going every time she hears those claps.

And yet, no matter how hard Pearl tries to keep her head occupied and focus on work, it breaks easily. All it takes is a color, an object, a sound, and it all shatters and Pearl is again shoved into reality.

She likes meeting the fans, she finds it nice how many people come to see her dance. But the moment she steps offstage and actually sets her eyes on the crowd, she ends up freezing up. She sees the flash of pink hair and the large build and her heart soars. It can’t be Rose, Pearl knows it can’t be, not when she went to her funeral and saw her body in the casket. Not when she’s lived without Rose for fourteen years now. Pearl knows it can’t be her and yet.

And yet here she is, freezing up and her face flushed as the pink haired woman walks towards her. Her face is still flushed and her heart still pounds even as it finally connects that this isn’t Rose. Her eyes and hair are different and she’s wearing an outfit Pearl’s never seen Rose wear and-

“I liked your performance.” The woman says and Pearl finally realizes she needs to speak. She realizes as she glances down and sees the rose the woman is handing her, the petals red. Pearl gently takes the rose as she mumbles, “It’s red.”

The woman falters. “Do you not like red roses?”

“No! I mean, yes! Yes, I love roses.” Pearl quickly holds the rose close to her chest as she stares at it instead of the woman. “I’m sorry- I’m a bit out of it after dancing.”

She laughs and it’s a wonderful laugh, deep from her chest. “That’s fine.”

Their conversation is brief, Pearl still flushing too heavily for someone her age and glancing at the rose over and over again. The woman is nice, and instead of the awkward conversations Pearl usually deals with when it comes to fans who are nervous around her, the pink haired woman doesn’t seem nervous at all. She holds herself with confidence and easily tells Pearl how wonderful her dancing was.

It makes Pearl drawn to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I have to go-” Pearl starts, her nails digging into the stem of the rose.

“That’s fine! Ballet dancers are busy, right?” Another sweet laugh, and then, “Could we talk more tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Pearl blinks and her heart skips as she looks up. The woman is smiling at her, and Pearl just now notices the piercing on her lip.

“Yeah, you know. Maybe at my place, if you like?”

Oh. _Oh_.

She hasn’t felt like this in years, she hasn’t looked at someone like this and felt her face flushing so much, and her eyes glancing away from them. She hasn’t felt this shy in awhile, and she certainly can’t recall the last time someone has…

“Sure.” Pearl says it, and she can’t believe she said it. She shouldn’t do this, she should fill up her schedule tomorrow then call and say she can’t. She should be telling this woman that she’s not interested.

But she says sure instead, holding a red rose.

She’s given an address and a time, Pearl shakily grabbing the paper before she finally excuses herself to leave. The rose and paper are held close to her chest.

Her whole night is full of thoughts of Rose, of staring at a cup of tea while holding the red rose. Her mind races and several times she dials the number before she backs out. She tells herself she can’t do this, then the next minute stares at a mirror and says she can. She should.

It’s been fourteen years since she’s done something like this. It’s been fourteen years since she went on a date (and it’s not a date, she’ll argue with herself). It’s been fourteen years since she’s felt like this, excitement and anxiety gripping her and tossing her to and fro.

It’s been fourteen years since she was given a single rose, and even then, all of them had been pink. None have ever been red.

She dresses casual, and yet she still feels overdressed. She tries to not dress flashy, but she feels as if every person on the street is looking at her. Glancing at how she walks and knowing what kind of person she is, they see the way she holds herself and they know that she shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be going on this date or any of this.

The apartments look all the same, all bricks with black fencing. All small steps leading to the front door to walk inside and find a room number, and Pearl lets herself walk faster as she goes inside, because she can’t linger. If she lingers, she’ll freeze up, and there she’ll be in the middle of the hall and people will just look at her.

When she reaches the door, her nerves are spiking and Pearl is ready to turn around. She shouldn’t be here, she needs to practice, she needs to write a memo to get milk tomorrow, she needs to make calls-

“Oh, Pearl!”

Pearl turns, her face red and her hands clasping together. She panics for a moment before- “Oh, yes, sorry, I was afraid I got a bit lost…”

She laughs it off, her eyes trailing down. She can’t look at this woman’s green eyes, they’re nothing like Rose’s, they’re not dark and things she could stare at for hours. This woman’s eyes are green and lively, bright and excited, she’s-

She’s so young compared to Pearl.

She walks inside, glancing over her decor. There’s posters of bands and an assortment of...things that don’t match. A modern looking bed with sheets that are black, a small television with little figurines on them, a pink alarm clock...It’s all a mix and match and disorganized, and usually, Pearl wouldn’t care for it.

But, right now, she feels the odd sense of fondness.

“Do you want a drink?” The girl asks from the kitchen and Pearl looks at her. She can stay and drink everything to make herself drunk. She can be upset and furious with herself the next day. Or she can walk out and regret never doing anything further than this.

Pearl takes wine, picking a white wine to drink and choosing to not see what her companion picks. She doesn’t see if she picks red or white (or maybe not even wine, maybe she has something else) and just sits down on the couch, making herself comfortable as she slowly starts to calm down.

Conversation leads ballerinas at first, Pearl understanding why. Pearl briefly talks about her inspirations, Anna Pavlova and Maria Tallchief, and doesn’t mention Rose. It leads to movies and the woman likes the movie called The Piano, briefly explaining it to Pearl. They talk about music, philosophy, books, authors-

They talk about so much that Pearl starts to feel her throat drying up, even though she has wine. Pearl never mentions Rose, but she’s realizing this is the first time she’s talked to someone like this in years. The last person was her, the day before she died-

“You remind me of someone.” Pearl nervously laughs, looking down at her glass of wine. It’s her fourth glass, and she can see her lipstick stains around the glass. “She was a very dear friend to me.”

It goes downhill from there, Pearl needs to stop, she needs to stop drinking. She needs to leave and forget about this. She’s being foolish, chasing ghosts that aren’t even there.

But then a warm hand touches her knee and it breaks. Pearl looks over at the woman, with her pink hair that’s not at all the curls like Rose, and her pink lips that are parted, and her green eyes that are full of worry and something else. Something else that makes Pearl feel weak and lean against her.

It’s been fourteen years, this can’t be bad. It shouldn’t be bad, right?

Pearl kisses her, softly, and pulls back just as fast. The hand on her knee slides up her thigh and the woman is leaning in again, capturing Pearl’s lips. Pearl can taste what she was drinking now as she wraps her arms around the other and urges her closer. The wine is forgotten on the coffee table and Pearl instead focuses on the woman on top of her, kissing her and her knee _right_ between Pearl’s legs.

“Oh!” Pearl feels the spark of arousal that’s she’s been missing for _so_ long and she arches, grinding on that knee. Her skirt’s rising up and she should feel ashamed, but she can’t. Not when she wants this so much, just once. She wants just one night to feel good again, to feel that amazing build up and the pulses through her body. That’s all she wants.

They tug each other’s clothes off, between the kissing. Pearl feels more alive than she has in months and she basks in the attention, her thighs spreading the moment she feels a hand trailing down. The woman feels so hot and her lips slide down to Pearl’s neck. She bites along her skin, and Pearl knows they’ll be bruises the next day. She bruises too easily, they never hurt but they’re there. As a reminder. That Pearl is doing all of this. They’ll be on her skin for a full week maybe and she’ll have to wear something to cover her neck even when dancing- 

The woman takes Pearl’s dress off and it slides to the floor. Pearl stares up at her, and when she sees those green eyes light up, Pearl laughs nervously, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t plan this, I’m honest, I just- I just like dressing nice-”

“It’s okay.” The woman smiles again. Pearl feels embarrassed for her underwear. She did so much debating before she decided to wear the lacy bra and panties. They’re pale blue and they’re probably not the most...provocative thing Pearl’s worn. But...but…

But they feel like so much. Even though the woman says okay and is just smiling, just above Pearl and looking so much like Rose and absolutely nothing like her. She’s tanner, her voice is different, there are so many things someone could point out about this woman and how she isn’t Rose.

“Do you want to do this?”

The question rings in Pearl’s ears and she stares at the woman, her heart racing. She freezes up and she doesn’t say anything for a moment, because she honestly doesn’t know what she wants right now. A part of her is screaming that it’s Rose, she wants Rose back. She wants her back and alive and laughing and being with Pearl. But another part is constantly yelling back that this isn’t Rose. She’s dead, gone, never ever going to laugh or smile or-

The woman stands up, a soft smile on her face. Pearl blinks and continues to stare as the woman clarifies, “Hey, listen...you seemed freaked out right now so, uh…”

She looks unsure now, her soft smile faltering. “I like you, I think you’re really cool, but...if you need more time to think about this, you can, okay?”

More time. More time to think about all of this. Pearl stares at her and she slowly relaxes, until she’s straightening up on the couch and murmuring, “Alright, thank you.”

Silence falls over them and Pearl laughs nervously, “I’m so sorry, I haven’t done this in years-”

“It’s okay! Really, don’t apologize.” Another soft smile and they’re in silence once again. The woman gets Pearl’s dress and offers a ride and Pearl falters before she shakes her head. No, she has to walk home, by herself. She has to think about all of this. She needs…

She needs to be in more control.

Pearl blinks and she glances at the other and bites her lip. “...If I ever wanted to try this again, could I call?”  
“Of course!” Her green eyes light up so quickly that Pearl almost laughs, but she instead goes on to say, “When I call you and...if we ever do this again, could we...well, let me think about it.”

She just met her. She doesn’t know her. Not really. But the woman nods. She helps Pearl gather her things and shows her the door and like that, they part. She needs to just...think of everything, set up herself better, be in control more. And when she isn’t so shocked by the mere coincidence that this woman looks like Rose, Pearl can come back.

Then they can both enjoy their time together.


End file.
